Kindness like a Crown
by thundercow
Summary: He thinks about describing Tsuruko in one word. — Yukiatsu, Tsuruko
1. measured: yukiatsu, tsuruko

**notes** – I apologize for lack of updates! I'm currently stuck in a block, but if anyone is interested, I do have like 4 WIPs going on now. For the time being, this will be a collection of drabbles that I've been writing and not-sharing on ffnet. Expect not just Yukiatsu/Tsuruko but other pairings and friendships and just the super peace busters being super. Thank you very much for the continued support!

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><p><strong>measured<strong>  
><em>yukiatsu,tsuruko (post-series)<em>

When he thinks about describing Tsuruko in one word, he thinks 'measured'. It's not the first word that comes to his mind, but it's the most appropriate one at the moment. She is always controlled when she is with him, frowning in that sort of way that isn't exactly unhappy or angry, never smiling with more than a slight curve of her mouth, her spectacles precisely tilted. Tsuruko sets these unsaid limits on herself and Yukiatsu has never seen the need to press her about it. He's used to her little quirks, as much as she is used to his.

It is when she's talking to Yadom– sorry. It is when she's talking to Jintan, does she get careless. She lets a laugh tumble out in between a conversation. A quiet, modest one (but it is still a laugh and it is still genuine), and Yukiatsu can't help but feel… shortchanged, somehow.

She lets Poppo touch her shoulder and then on the hand when he talks, never pulling away or showing discomfort. Yukiatsu stares at the spectacle from the corner of his eye before folding up his thoughts and storing them at the back of his mind. It doesn't mean anything to him. This is what he tells himself. It's not like he's ever attempted (or been interested) in getting close to Tsuruko, so it would be foolish to get jealous over something as frivolous as this.

_Frivolous_, huh. Is he channeling Tsuruko now that she's abandoned her stereotype?

But when he watches Tsuruko and Anaru conversing in the only way they know how to – a feeling of mutual hostility buttered with respectful acceptance of one another – he realises that Tsuruko might be discriminating him. The two girls exchange words that begin out stiff and slowly soften up, and they sound agreeable for once. Anaru offers a smile to Tsuruko, and Tsuruko returns it with one of her own. It's small, but it's there. Yukiatsu is immediately bent on figuring out why she lowers her guard for everyone but him.

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><p>"Tsuruko." He stands next to her as they wait for the train on the platform.<p>

"Yukiatsu," she replies.

"Listen," he tries again, turning to face her this time.

"I am," Tsuruko says though she doesn't look up. "I always am."

The boy stops. He looks at her carefully this time. Really looks. She has her nose in a book and a pink flower in her hair. Maybe she hasn't been discriminating him at all.


	2. autonomy: poppo

**autonomy**  
><em>poppo (pre-series)<em>

No matter where he goes, Menma is there.

In Thailand, when he travels through a town while scavenging for traditional knickknacks, he comes across children playing on the sidewalk. The young girls are adorable, uncharted excitement colouring their cheeks as they kick the ball around them. Their skins are tanned from the hot summers of the region. He swallows when he hears Menma's laughter amongst the girls. It's a girlish one. The one Tsuruko can't pull off because she likes to laugh with a hand over her mouth. The one Anaru never wants to imitate because she doesn't want to be mild when she laughs.

He buys a straw hat to shield himself from the sun.

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><p>When he goes to India, the first place the guide brings the tour group to is the Ganga river, the longest river in the country. Poppo regrets coming along for the trip immediately. He stares its length, the deceiving calmness of the water, feeling nauseous and afraid. The medic lets him rest under the shade of a tree, but he doesn't get better until two days later.<p>

He buys a silk shawl to for his mother in the airport.

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><p>He has a muffin for breakfast in California, brown and crunchy with raisins. It's more ironic than deliberate – he hadn't known how to read the menu, so he pointed at a random English title and hoped for a nice surprise. This is just a surprise.<p>

It's been a long time since he's had a muffin. The last time he did, he remembers a kind woman with a patient smile and oven mitts. Poppo nibbles at the pastry, feeling underwhelmed because Jintan's mother had baked sweeter muffins. His appetite dwindles when he remembers how Menma had loved eating them the most, always charging first into the house to get them fresh.

He leaves it half-eaten on the plate and goes.

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><p>Russia is blanketed in white. The women on the streets wear fur coats in an assortment of colours.<p>

Poppo puffs hot air against his hands as he explores the city. The snow is thick and heavy here, and the streets wide and open, nothing like the packed hustle and bustle of Japan. He sneezes at the corner of the block, bending his head over for a moment. It's just then that a small girl walks past him, clad in white, grey hair stuff underneath a woolly hat. He snaps his eyes up and looks around, but the girl is already gone, walking down the street behind him.

He doesn't bother to chase after her.

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><p>No matter where he goes, Menma is waiting.<p>

So he continues.


	3. the lives left: jintan, anaru

**notes **– if you're more of a Jintan/Menma person, have no fear! I have some drabbles for that pair too.

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><p><strong>the lives left<strong>  
><em>jintan, anaru (post-series)<em>

They start by picking up the pieces from seven years ago.

He takes the empty seat in front of her and looks over his shoulder whenever he can't follow class. She hands him her notebook and for once, she feels the need to pay attention to the teacher. She writes down the formulas on the whiteboard and asks a question or two when she dares to be daring.

During break, he makes it a point to ask her questions and whine about how lost he is in class. She rests her head on her desk and feels almost dependable. Jintan repays her by sharing the boxed lunch his father made for him. Anaru scans the classroom discreetly, on the lookout for gossip mongers. When she's sure there aren't any, she helps herself to the prawns.

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><p>They walk home together after school, after he's done copying her notes and thanking her. She pulls the straps of her bag closer to herself and watches how the setting sun elongates their shadows on the walkway. Then, she chuckles. Jintan raises an eyebrow.<p>

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, it just feels like we're turning into Yukiatsu and Tsuruko, walking home like this," she tells him absently, "but that's silly!" she finishes her sentence, horrified by what she just said.

"Yeah, well I wouldn't want to be like them." Jintan shrugs, still far from understanding the two. "We're just us," he decides.

"Us?" Anaru repeats. She feels her cheeks heat.

"Whatever that is," Jintan says. He looks away from the traffic light and gazes at her, searching for an understanding between them. When she nods, the corner of his mouth lifts a little, awkward but trying.

They know that life doesn't have a retry button the way RPGs do, but life has forgiveness, friendship and the ability to start anew, which is more than enough.


End file.
